


how i want you, darling

by orphan_account



Category: Scream Queens (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Hate Sex, i'm sorry i couldn't be assed to make a resolution, not really hate sex but aye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5421470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace hates her. She can't stand her, and even as she sits in the chair dumb-struck, she hates Chanel Oberlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how i want you, darling

**Author's Note:**

> -takes place directly after Chanel/Grace's conversation in 1x08- mommie dearest.

"And your mother was nothing but a _drunk, degenerate slut_."

Chanel gets up, a disgustingly smug grin plastered on her face. "That's who she is."

Grace feels it, she knows that she hates her now, instead of just a mere dislike. Which is why she gets up too, in a daze- she knows that she's doing it, but the action is detached, as if something had come between her and reality, possessed her. Grace doesn't hesitate, pretty much tackling Chanel to the ground in a swirl of rage, a fit of dominance- the world be damned.

And it's more than worth it as they fall to the ground, just her body pressed up tightly against the shorter girl's. It _fucking feels nice._

"What the hell?" Chanel shrieks, clearly bothered by the taller blonde's move. "I told you the truth, what the fuck else do you want, daughter of _the actual devil_?"

Chanel's face is barely inches away from hers, and it's irresistible- her breath is hot against hers, and just-

"I'm giving you one chance," Grace pants, and it's unbearable, she has to hold back every fiber of her being, the basic feeling of lust threatening to take over, clawing at her normal senses. "Take it back."

"Never. In. A. Million. Years." Chanel's words are punctuated with a piercing jab of her finger on Grace's chest, as she struggles underneath her to get free. But this just makes Grace frustrated- in a different way than she's used to. She's half a head taller, and a little heavier, so naturally it's easy to pin her down.

"Fuck, you make it so easy," Grace groans.

"Easy for what?" Chanel scrambles at the taller girl's hips, trying still to work herself free.

"Easy for me to do this, you dumb, desperate whore," Grace snarls, tone menacingly sharp and devoid of remorse- as she crushes their lips together.

Chanel whines against her, trying to kick at Grace's shins, anything to get away, the kiss, if you can call it that, isn't nice- it's all force and the harsh clash of teeth. Which is why she can't wrap her mind around why it feels so damn hot- suddenly the temperature is up to a million as Grace moans into her mouth.

Chanel whimpers again, and all it does is encourage Grace even more. Gone is the obnoxiously naïve, innocent freshman pledge- replaced with a girl who wanted nothing more than to strip her bare- literally and metaphorically.

"You like that shit," Grace hums, latching onto Chanel's neck. "I do not," Chanel stutters, and for once her precise tongue fails her, words gone out the window.

"See here, bitch," Grace looks at her irately, with her pink, full lips and dark eyes- almost all of the gentle blue from her irises gone. "You do. And you're gonna let me prove it." With that, she takes hold, ripping Chanel's blouse open, revealing black lace. The sudden strength almost surprises her, the sound of tearing fabric filling the Kappa hall, echoing around the empty house. 

And obviously, Chanel opens her mouth to complain, but Grace shuts her up with a glare. "You and I both know that you have three more of those exact shirts."

The next article of clothing coming off of Chanel's slender frame is her pink quilted skirt, but she has enough sense this time to unzip, unbutton and stumble out of it- instead of the alternative being Grace tearing it off her body. Chanel reaches for the sky-high heels, motioning to take them off, but Grace allows the shoes with a growled "Keep them".

"The true test," Grace scoffs, allowing herself to take in hungrily- the sight of the Kappa president almost naked on the floor, glaring at her with nothing but hatred. "Do you, take it, back?"

This is Chanel's only time to revoke her words, and somewhere deep inside, twisted and bent, she knows that she probably should.

"No." The single syllable falls effortlessly from Chanel's lips, it's one she's used to always saying- but never hearing from other people. "I don't give a flying fuck about your mother, Grace Gardner, and nothing you do to me will change that."

Grace chuckles slightly, unhooking Chanel's bra expertly with deft fingers. "However much you love this, I'll love it more." Grace knows, and it might not seem like it to anyone else, but the Kappa president had just admitted defeat. She's surrendered.

And maybe Chanel knows that she's messed up for good, as Grace traces her way down Chanel's body with her lips, down the valley of her breasts, enough to make her feel, enough to make her squirm. And Chanel stays the entire time, laying on her back helplessly on the floor, staring up at the chandelier- taking in a sharp breath because Grace is almost there.

And then she really is there, it's fucked up how she got there but she's there anyways, Grace Gardner has her thumbs hooked in the expensive lingerie of Chanel Oberlin's panties, and is dragging them down her thighs, all the way down until they pool at her ankles at, at her heels. A third party really would have laughed now, when Grace's mouth makes contact with Chanel's center, and the most pathetic mewl emerges from her throat.

She's basically writing her own obituary. 

Grace presses her tongue against Chanel in a way that's anything but holy, and Chanel has to grab onto Grace's hair, fistfuls of the blonde locks, and she just _doesn't_ care if it hurts her or not. The worst part comes when Grace pushes her fingers in, and she's truly done then- rolling her hips, chasing after her own pleasure. The taller girl has ideas of her own, however, as she uses her free hand to keep Chanel's thighs apart.

Chanel forces herself to open her eyes, staring up at the chandelier and the lights, wondering, just _how_ and _why_ and _where_ Grace Gardner learned to fuck girls. She continues looking up, as she hears the embarrassingly wet sound of herself.

"Go to hell," the shorter blonde mutters, her grip on Grace's hair just as tight. "I hope you die."

She can feel Grace giggle complacently against her.

"I hope I die too." 


End file.
